


Fantasy

by Chromi



Series: Deuce-centric [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blindfolds, Deuce keeps a notebook of all of his sexual fantasies, Established Relationship, Humiliation, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Originally From Discord, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Rimming, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, he really out here being Like That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromi/pseuds/Chromi
Summary: Deuce, Ace one day discovers, keeps a notebook containing every sexual fantasy he's ever had since they became a couple. Some are basic, some are eye-opening, and Ace decides to act upon all of them.But one revolves around including his medical mentor, Marco, in the mix.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Masked Deuce, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace, Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace
Series: Deuce-centric [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576678
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted to Discord as I wrote it, and it ended up being _significantly_ longer than intended! Big thanks to ohshanksno for the idea of the sex fantasty notebook :D I wonder what else Deuce has written in there...?
> 
> There is a moment where Deuce panics and doesn't know who is in the room. There's also the implication of past parental homophobia. Neither are serious, but... mentioning just in case.

“Wear this, and don’t take it off.”

Those were the words that sealed Deuce’s fate. Such a simple sentence to spell such… interesting results. Terrifying, yes. Exhilarating, even more so.

This position had once been too much for Deuce, back when he and Ace had first turned intimate a year into becoming pirates together. This, where he was on his knees, chest to sheets, ass in the air and waiting and _waiting,_ had once forced him to blush and stammer so hard he had had to bite into a pillow to stop himself whimpering with shame. This was not _proper_ , this was not how he should _ever_ allow himself to behave— and yet each time he opened himself to Ace in the privacy of their room, that iron ball of humiliation eased off just a little.

But this—adding in the blindfold? This was new. This invoked that old sense of acute _shame_ that had been regular and strictly slapped upon him at home.

And yet he tied it around his eyes himself. He moved into position without guidance, his wrists already bound by Ace’s handiwork, held clasped together above where his forehead rested to the silken sheets of their hotel room as if he were in prayer.

Maybe he _should_ have prayed.

“This,” he heard Ace say, heard Ace pacing the room around the bed, voice strong and confident as ever, “doesn’t leave this room.” Nothing they ever did left any room they did it in, so that was no problem. “And this is something that _you_ have asked for—hell, that you _want_. You know your safe word; you know how to stop this if you decide you don’t want to see it through, but we won’t stop for anything else. If you say stop, we carry on. If you protest or struggle without the safe word, I will assume you’re okay. That’s kinda the point of safe words. Do you agree so far?”

Fuck, yes, he agreed all right—he had told Ace about the concept of the safe word in the first place, a brand-new idea that he had overheard one drunken night when the entire crew, bar Mihar, had piled into a brothel on some far-flung island. Unfortunately for Ace, though, he had not been privy to that conversation. The moment some woman behind a closed door had screamed the word _fire_ Ace had thrown himself through it only to find Skull, of all people, involved in a BDSM scene of the likes that neither captain nor first mate would ever be able to drown from their memories no matter what.

“That notebook I found,” Ace continued, and something – presumably the offending notebook – hit the bed by Deuce’s hands, making him twitch, “that notebook of all of your dirtiest, filthiest fantasies – we’ll be working through all of them.” Dear god, what had he done to deserve this? Deuce had never been a lucky man, and yet here he was— “I’ve chosen at random, and you’ll go along with it unless you opt out.”

Deuce couldn’t suppress the shiver, the _moan_ that slipped out when Ace’s touch came out of nowhere, fingers gliding over the curve of his ass only to curl into a sharp, _delicious_ slap. He had no idea what Ace had chosen – that was part of the fun, Ace had argued the day before when this absurd “sex bucket list” had been discovered – but he couldn’t remember ever fantasising about being blindfolded on his knees, presented as if for _breeding_.

“Are you ready?”

Yes, he was ready. Whatever Ace had done, was doing, or intended to do, was good. Always good. Always thinking ahead, thinking of _him,_ taking everything in his stride and going with the flow of whatever insane situation they landed in—

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Another slap to his other cheek – another jolt, a whimper pressed into the patch of saliva he was mouthing to the sheet.

“Y-Yes,” Deuce said, and oh, he sounded _gone_ already, and they hadn’t even _done_ anything yet. Unless, of course, he counted how Ace had thoroughly, carefully, stringently fingered him in the bathroom beforehand, stretching and curling and rubbing and coiling Deuce so tight he had actually been shocked to not sob and demand Ace finish him off the moment he had withdrawn his talented fingers.

“Yes, what?”

Deuce swallowed thickly; the soft _pat_ of a drip between his bent knees as he swelled seemed to echo throughout the room.

“Yes, Captain.”

And Ace didn’t say another word.

His eyesight robbed of him, Deuce found that his other senses seemed to be keenly, almost painfully heightened. The sound of the bedroom door clicking open and then locking shut again had him physically shuddering, rooted to the spot with quickened, nervous breaths panted hot and wet into soft fabric. He didn’t dare move – the light hadn’t been turned on, he could tell that much, and there was still movement within the room. The barest rustle of clothing gave it away, and Deuce was immensely glad for it, his heart having leapt frantic at the thought of Ace simply upping and _leaving him_ prone and vulnerable.

But if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Ace would never even think to do something over and beyond Deuce’s (already significantly relaxed) boundaries. Humiliation was fine – welcomed, in fact, when dealt out in the secrecy of their rooms, entwined and gasping promises of _love_ and _always_ to sweat-slicked skin – but to just leave him like that? Never. So Deuce didn’t worry; didn’t let the anxiety climb.

The bed dipped behind him between his parted legs, and Deuce, without consciously thinking about it, lifted his hips with a soft, inviting sound that was solely reserved for Ace. What was coming for him? What had Ace taken fancy of in that godforsaken book that Deuce had been so stupid ( _no, so right_ ) to keep in his drawer? In the drawer that Ace liked to cram his findings into, as Deuce well knew? Was he to expect toys? Ace’s mouth? Fingers again? Something – he almost groaned at the thought – edible?

It was nothing that Deuce could have guessed at. Nothing at all.

Hands slid smooth over his ass to grip firm, as if they were learning of his curves, his ridges, the dip of divots at the base of his spine and the warmth that radiated from between his cheeks.

Hands that squeezed, that kneaded, that stroked up higher to press into his spine, trace along the pattern of his ribs to tickle where he inhaled _sharp_.

The hot, heavy, _familiar_ press of an erection sliding sticky up the cleft of his ass, catching at his rim and making him respond on instinct to press back before he could stop himself.

All of this – so normal, so _vanilla_ – was familiar. Was safe.

Aside from the very, _very_ startling fact that it was definitely not Ace behind him.

Deuce panicked. _Hard._ This was not in the book—this was absolutely without a doubt _not_ in the book. He had no such fantasies or desires of being fucked by a stranger whatsoever, especially not when fucking blindfolded and left in a room of a hotel he hadn’t even fully registered the name of because he numbly followed Ace with his hand in his and—

From somewhere in front of him at the head of the bed, Deuce heard the tell-tale sound of Ace swallowing. It was so quiet he almost missed it, but knowing—knowing he was _still here_ made Deuce both incredulously angry and yet also relieved.

He made to sit up, to ask Ace just what the fuck had possessed him, thinking that this was even _close_ to something sane—when a palm, broad and _strong_ , slapped between his shoulders and forced him back down. That hot, thick cock – thicker and longer than Ace’s – slid insistent against him, rubbing slick through the lube at his entrance and its own oil.

The man stroked at Deuce’s hip with an almost condescending gentleness, drawing small circles while he continued to hold him down with ease, as if he were entirely unaware of how Deuce was now beginning to struggle with a snarl. A part of him – a far bigger part than should have been reasonable, he dimly figured – tried to argue that this was a hallucination of some form. It had to be, because there was simply _no possible way_ that Ace would allow something like this to happen, would gladly hand over his partner to a complete stranger.

And then, right as he was on the verge of tears – right as the confusion peaked, the safe word forming on his lips for Ace to step in and _explain_ – the man leaned forward, draping himself up Deuce’s back and canting his hips against him more aggressively. A whine left Deuce unbidden, caught in his throat, when a kiss was pressed to his hair, his ear, and stubble scratched at his jaw.

“Calm down. It’s me. Can’t you tell?”

Every muscle in his body seemed to relax instantly at that blissfully familiar voice.

_Marco._

“No, I couldn’t _tell,”_ Deuce hissed, his cheeks igniting, arousal returning tenfold like a swift punch to the gut that threatened to make his legs collapse under Marco’s weight, “I’ve never felt your cock against my ass, have I?”

“But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

The bed creaked under them as Marco leaned back again, steadying himself with hands splayed flat to Deuce’s lower back.

He had. Over and over, day after day, shift after stupid fucking shift in the medical bays and up close and personal with Pops. And he’d been a big enough fool to write it down, to give life to a forbidden fantasy that surely _Ace_ of all people should not have been on board with.

… which gave rise to that exact question. _Why_ was Ace okay with this? Why had Ace, Deuce’s partner of over two years now, agreed to indulge in his completely inappropriate desire to sleep with Marco?

(Or, if Deuce remembered that particular scribbling correctly, the exact phrase was, “to sleep with Marco _and Ace_.”)

Deuce felt himself nodding before the words would come, suddenly not caring if Marco saw or felt him do so. If Marco was here, naked, and hard, then that could only mean that Marco wanted this, too. And very much so, judging by how he rocked to slide up Deuce’s perineum again, pressing against his hole—

—only to draw back without warning, leaving Deuce sighing an almost mournful sound—

—until the warmth and weight of his cock was replaced by fingers – two fingers that sank into Deuce’s slicked, stretched body with ease, pressing inside to draw a genuine, guttural moan from him. He pressed back into that stretch, heat curling in the pit of his stomach immediately as if a switch had been flipped inside him on entry.

“I’ve thought about it, too,” Marco said in a low, velvety tone, calm and collected as if he didn’t currently have Deuce’s already-sensitive prostate swelling against the pads of his fingers, and didn’t have Deuce himself groaning from his precise, experienced touch, “about fucking you, I mean. So when Ace came to me and asked if I would be up for some no-strings-attached sex with you, there was no way I was going to turn him down.” He bent to reach around and close his left fist around Deuce’s wet cock, eliciting a hot, tense sigh of surprise – a roll of Deuce’s hips backwards to get more friction, more _anything_. Plush lips fuelled by an obvious hunger pressed kisses to his spine, encouraging his arch and drawing to suck marks all over; Deuce was visited by the very sudden clarity that Marco may well be looking to _intentionally_ mark him up, and that thought did nothing but fuel the intense, raging fire that had settled deep in his veins.

“You didn’t ask if he was joking?” Deuce managed, immediately aware of how he had started to tremble all over, his nerves assailed just _right_ with each controlled, wet slide into his body.

“Of course I did,” Marco replied smoothly, reaching Deuce’s shoulders; Deuce could feel his heat on his skin, and wished he could get even a glimpse of whatever expression Marco was making, “I didn’t want to get my hopes up. What fool wouldn’t ask? I never thought I would get the chance, seeing as you two may as well be married. You’re—” Deuce whined, biting his lip, as Marco pressed a third finger inside, “—right at the top of my list of people I want to bed, right alongside Ace.” Oh, god, if Deuce was really lucky, this might play out how he had always dreamed, caught tight between the two commanders.

And, he remembered with a thrill of a shudder, his breath catching in his throat in time with Marco drawing back from laving kisses at his shoulders, Ace was right there. Right beside him, probably. Watching everything, _his_ eyesight not compromised, free to see every little twitch and hitch of his hips up and forward into Marco’s touches.

Deuce had never felt so ravenously desired in all his life, positive that he could _feel_ the pressure of their dual gazes upon his bare back.

“What should I do to you first?” Marco’s hummed musings seemed to curl around Deuce’s body as much as his touches did. “Eat you out? Suck you off? Or just go straight into fucking you?”

Deuce tried to answer – he really did – but the only sound he found himself able to make was a muffled yelp of surprise when Marco withdrew his fingers without warning and let go of his cock at the same time. He was left panting and tense, braced against the bed with no idea of what Marco was doing behind him, and each second that passed in the silence bordered on agony, teased into desperation.

He was about to pull the blindfold from his eyes just as it started to become too much, the deprivation pressing hard on his awareness—when suddenly Marco’s palms were on him again. Spreading, kneading, gently pulling him apart to bare him to the warm air heated by Ace’s mere presence in the room, and then—

Deuce’s hips bucked; his breath caught sticky in his chest – he _tried_ to form Marco’s name, but it sounded more like a strangled sob, caught unaware by the sudden wet probing of what was unmistakeably Marco’s tongue against his entrance. Wet and firm, Marco licked at him with enthusiasm, nothing hesitant or shy about his movements, his intention. Deuce rolled back into that divine touch, stuttering an almost pathetic gasp for _more_.

“You could have—” Deuce tried, gasping for breath as Marco drew his lips to close and suck at his rim, “you could have at _least_ let me _decide_ —”

“You were too slow. But _fuck_ , don’t you react _nicely_.” The vibrations of Marco’s words felt unnaturally _good_ against him – so _good,_ all so _wet_ and _wonderful_ until everything in his overactive mind shut down and Deuce relaxed properly, at last, with a tremulous sigh.

“I don’t—” god, it was _impossible_ to form words all of a sudden, his jaw hanging slack and open to the sheets, pressing back without thought into the wetness of Marco’s tongue, his nerves alight, his cognition reduced to a heady buzz of _fuckyesfuckmefuckmealready_ — “I—react— _normally_ —”

A breath of a laugh ghosted over sensitive skin, and Deuce gasped in response, thighs shaking and cock dripping onto the sheets once again.

“Sure you do.”

With difficulty, his wrists bound as they were, Deuce attempted to raise his face up, to prop up on his elbows to get away from the damp patch he had created where he had been moaning and gasping so unashamedly—but that palm was back on him instantly, guiding him down to lie cheek-to-sheets again without a modicum of pressure, resting cool and commanding to his skin.

And this was precisely what he had wanted from Marco, had found attractive and enticing, since the day he had first met him. That command. That easy, self-assured confidence that he radiated; the ability to get the results he wanted from the people he needed with very little in the way of active persuasion. Watching him work the medical bay for the first time had been a treat, almost, and certainly an eye-opener for Deuce, who had never seen a doctor other than his own family in action—

His dazed thoughts came to a grinding halt the instant Marco gave him one last suck, one final lick, and resumed his previous position of dragging hot – _so hot, so aroused_ – up the back of Deuce’s balls, his perineum, rocking against where his own salvia continued to drip. Marco’s thumbs pressed at the rim of his hole, pulling him open gently and drawing from him a helpless little groan.

“Are you always this submissive for Ace?” Marco’s voice came ragged, like he was fighting down the urge to just thrust forward and _take_ what Deuce _so_ wanted to give him— “or are you just being extra cute for my sake?”

Ah, he was _stupidly_ turned on under Marco’s touch, and so overwhelmingly grateful to Ace for giving him this opportunity.

“He’s always like this.”

Deuce _jumped_ at the sound of Ace’s voice from right beside him – not above, as he would have expected, but level with him, giving away that Ace was kneeling beside the bed, quite literally barely two feet away from where Deuce was about to get fucked by their friend, their superior. Deuce turned, blind, towards him, suddenly _very_ aware of how breathing was on the verge of being an impossible task.

“ _Ace,”_ he moaned desperately, reaching blindly with bound hands to where he had heard his boyfriend, “you’re—Ace, you’re—”

A warm hand tucked into his left, immediately flooding Deuce with something that he couldn’t label properly right now. Relief? Almost. Love? Well, he always felt that for Ace. But it was hot in his chest, and the tears began to well up without warning, and the head of Marco’s cock had lined up to rest wet against him, ready, waiting, _waiting_ —

—Deuce pushed back with his knees, his grip tightening on Ace’s hand as he was just barely breached, the tip of that thick, swollen head nudging into his relaxed body—it wasn’t even _slightly_ close to being enough, he needed more, now that it was here and being offered to him and he had the chance to take, to take, _to take without guilt_ —

“And can he take it rough?”

A question directed at Ace; a question that Deuce had to stop himself shouting _yes_ to by biting his lip, pulling Ace’s hand closer towards his face to blindly bury into, the silk slipping over his damp eyelids when Ace stroked his cheek—

“Yeah, he can, but you’ll probably make him come too quickly that way.”

_Oh hell, oh god, Ace, don’t tell him that, don’t let him know, please, please—_

A dark murmur of a laugh; the prickle of nails digging into his hips. Marco braced himself at Deuce’s back, leaning over him to get as close as he could to his face, and hissed:

“ _Good_ —”

Before sheathing himself inside Deuce in one single, fluid motion.

Before Deuce's eyes rolled back behind the silk, his lungs seized, and he swore on his life he saw stars.

Marco was _big_. _Really big._ Big enough to stretch Deuce’s body to what felt like breaking point, pressing into him right to the root and leaving him perfectly incapable of drawing a single breath. And yet Deuce found himself pushing _back_ with a moan, fingers scrabbling up Ace’s arm to anchor him somehow, to keep him sane, almost, as the weight of that well-oiled cock came to a stop with a hot, heavy groan mouthed between his shaking shoulders.

His entire body seemed to seize up, nerves firing with sweet, blessed euphoria once Marco stopped; that familiar, intoxicating, _fantastic_ sensation of promised release was writhing and twisting tighter within Deuce’s groin already. It was too soon – it was _much_ too soon, he thought desperately with a strained, high sound of shaky disbelief. Marco had only just pressed inside and here he was, on the verge of orgasm.

“ _No_ ,” Deuce breathed to the inside of Ace’s arm, clutching at him tighter – he _had_ to be hurting him, what with how hard he dug his nails into that heated, tanned flesh— “ _don’t move_. Marco, don’t—” and despite his own insistences, Deuce spread his knees a little wider; bowed his back slightly deeper, forcing Marco to lean his weight forwards more with a puff of air to Deuce’s shoulders, a hand gripping solid to his numb hip, the other bracing itself alongside Deuce’s head – “ _ah, Marco, please, don’t move—!”_

He was going to come—he was going to come and it would all be over, his one chance to satiate a desire that he should have never had in the first place, and he’d be ridiculed, surely, and—oh, that had to mean that Ace would be too, because—

A deep chuckle almost had him doing what he did best and running away (or, in this case, crawling), but Marco and Ace held him fast between them as if they _knew_.

“I’m not moving,” Marco murmured, kissing Deuce’s shoulder gently and earning a heated, trembling sigh, “you’re doing it all by yourself.” Those lips curved into a smirk. “You feelin’ good, Deuce?”

He could have laughed – he felt better than _good_. Marco was resting hard against his prostate, already teased sensitive by both Ace and Marco’s fingers, and now it was being pressed with relentless pressure through his wall. His favorite spot, as he had discovered the first time Ace had fingered him in the dark of his cabin back on their old ship, nervous energy and soft whimpers being all they had to guide them. Back then he had been scared, heart hammering in his chest to match Ace’s own beat, fighting back the years of being taught that to desire was to be wrong and shameful, and finally doing what he had never fully allowed himself to _want_.

But this was different. This was Deuce about to lose control, on the verge of coming from nothing more than penetration—

His father would be _so_ disgusted if he could see him now—

And Deuce gave in, surrendered entirely; with a bite to Ace’s arm he drew forward as much as he could under Marco’s weight only to press back immediately, and—

The world went perfectly white as pleasure ripped through him at once. He was dimly aware that he must have shouted out, must have clawed too hard at Ace and bucked forward under Marco, yet they eased him through it together. No laughter. No jokes. Just silence, save for Deuce’s shaky breaths and Marco’s quietly controlled sigh once Deuce began to relax.

“Wow,” Ace broke the silence after several long, drawn out seconds, “that was… new.”

“He’s never done that with you?” Marco asked, and Ace must have shaken his head, because next thing Deuce knew he had long, cool fingers lifting his face by the chin up to meet Marco’s lips, parting without hesitation to delve deep and searching past Deuce’s own.

His head swam pleasurably, kissing Marco back with vigor mere inches away from where Ace watched, still holding onto him. Marco tasted sweeter than Deuce had imagined he would after literally having his mouth to his ass, and he kissed far more passionately than Deuce could have hoped for. A moan slipped from him despite his best efforts, his body seemingly content on continuing to betray him tonight.

“I’m not done with you, by the way,” Marco said, and as Deuce’s breath hitched in his chest – as his body worked against him yet again and that _flame_ of arousal sparked and ignited once more – he felt Marco’s fingers work at the silk around his eyes. It slid from his face once undone, dropping to the floor with a flick of Marco’s wrist. “Ace said you can take rough treatment, and neither of us have come yet, so you’ve got a bit more work to do.”

 _Neither_ of them? Deuce found himself hoping against hope that Marco meant what he thought he did.

And, with a few blinks, Deuce was suddenly staring into Ace’s silvery eyes, so close to his own that they were almost touching. Panic flooded him in a heartbeat; he opened his mouth to apologise, to profess that he hadn’t _meant_ to come like that, that if Ace tried it with conscious effort then he was _sure_ that he could make him—

But with a startled sound Deuce had Ace kissing him hard, his pace almost feverish and frantic, pressing against Deuce with a soft moan of his own.

“Ace—”

“You’re _incredible_ ,” Ace praised, breathless, as he began to untie Deuce’s wrists. “We had this whole thing planned out where Marco would have you for a while first, but since you’ve already had your fun, I guess…”

Deuce buried his face into his freed hands. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t _try_ to—you _planned_ what we’re going to do?”

But Ace simply smiled that radiant smile of his before he stood and – Deuce leaned back with a flurry of excited nerves, suddenly acutely aware of how _Marco’s cock was still in him_ – positioned himself on the bed with a wriggle to lie spread under Deuce.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Deuce heard himself say flatly, staring down at Ace in utter disbelief. No way was he this lucky. No way was he actually going to be able to carry out what he had ached for like a missing limb or a— an itch he could never reach.

But even as he watched, even as he felt himself twitch back to life to the drum of Marco’s fingers along his ass, Ace stroked down over his own body, teasingly seductive and coy in his smile, his lidded gaze.

“I’m not,” Ace said, reaching to take hold of one of Deuce’s hands, “this is what you wrote about, isn’t it?” He already knew it was, of course. Guiding his hand between his legs, Ace’s fingers curled behind Deuce’s to slip against his entrance, and it was—Deuce swallowed, releasing the breath he didn’t know he had been holding right as Marco leaned in again. One of Marco’s large, strong hands settled underneath him to pinch at a nipple; the other went right back to supporting his weight on the bed. Deuce’s breath sped up again, and Marco’s kiss to his temple did nothing to calm him down.

“You’ve already—you’re already all—” Deuce bit his lip, suddenly flushing magenta at the feeling of Ace pressing two of his fingers inside to prove what he already knew. Why he couldn’t get the words _prepped_ or _wet_ out past his lips all of a sudden was anyone’s guess, yet instead Deuce was left speechless at the way Ace curved his fingers to hook them up and forward, rubbing at Ace’s prostate and sending him bucking up with a pleased hum.

“Couldn’t you hear me doing it while you were panicking over Marco?”

 _He had been_ —Deuce’s mind _reeled_. Ace had been getting off to the short-lived show, had he? With Marco fully aware, even if Deuce hadn’t been?

“You’ve gone tense and tight,” Marco mouthed to Deuce’s cheek, and, with a strangled groan from Deuce, he rocked into him with a teasing gentleness. His self-control was to be applauded, because Deuce was certain he wouldn't have been able to hold position quite like Marco had for the last few minutes.

Of course he’d tensed up – how couldn’t he? Who could ever stay calm in the face of a threesome with the two hottest people he had ever had the good fortune of meeting? The fact that they both wanted this – that Marco had agreed at all, actually – was impossible, was too much, and the shock of it had Deuce pliant enough to be guided down to press flush to Ace’s body and accept his kiss.

He gave himself to that kiss, parting open against Ace and cupping his freckled cheek, moving in tandem with a whimper, a sigh. It was all because of Ace that they were here, that this was happening. It was thanks to Ace being so secure in their relationship, trusting Deuce like he trusted no other to be able to do this and not destroy what they had nurtured so tenderly together.

Ace was warm; Ace tasted like familiarity and goodness and everything that Deuce had ever loved about him, all delivered directly to his tongue with a sure press and a self-satisfied sigh. And Marco’s calloused fingertips were back again, back to massage delicious pressure into Deuce's waist as Marco stroked along his sides, his gentle, constant rock of his hips nudging his cockhead ever deeper, his shaft grinding _so_ sweetly over that swollen, excited bundle of nerves.

Everything was heightened, and Deuce's head seemed to swim again with the swell and the pull of Ace beneath him, Marco above and surrounding him, both so clearly eager to reduce him to a trembling, overstimulated mess before this was over.

With one last slow, breathy kiss to his ear that ended in a tug of teeth over delicate cartilage, Marco pulled back enough to slip a hand down and grasp at Deuce's hard length. He gasped into Ace's mouth, instinctively rolling his hips into that glorious pressure, that _friction_ , of Marco's fingers slipping to coat him with lube, it felt like. Just _how_ Marco could even begin to think of multitasking, or where he had even _got_ the lube from, was completely beyond Deuce, his own mind and senses reduced to pinholes of Ace's heat and lips and Marco's thickness inside him and—

Hips flush to Deuce's ass, Marco pressed forward harder still, eliciting a moan that sounded more like a strangled sob onto Ace's tongue. He was guided by Marco's touch to press sticky at Ace's hole seconds after Ace had withdrawn their fingers with a soft, throaty sound. Oh, this was _rare_. This wasn't something they usually did – but, Deuce just about had the capacity to realise, this whole situation wasn't exactly what he could describe as _normal_. When alone together under the sheets, Deuce very rarely felt the inclination to top, forever more than happy to feel Ace within him and allow himself to come undone under his touches and tempo. It felt _better;_ it felt _right._

But this—oh, this was _nice_.

"That's it." Ace's voice was husky and low as Deuce followed Marco's lead and pressed inside, all shaking muscles and quickened, panted breaths mouthed to Ace's neck. "You're doing so well, Deuce. Just let Marco do all the work."

He had no choice but to let Marco lead and do exactly what he pleased, even if he _had_ wanted to take over.

And Marco stayed true to his promise of delivering exactly what Deuce preferred in bed.

With a sigh of exertion Marco reared back to settle on his knees proper again; a laugh shook from him when he pulled Deuce's cheeks apart to a startled whimper, clearly watching himself disappear into his soaked hole that was stretched taut around that thick, hard cock—

"Have you ever had a threesome like this before?" Marco asked, sounding _far_ too relaxed while Deuce was verging on abandoning any semblance of control and just moaning like a cheap whore. No, Deuce had _never_ done anything like this, much less ever been with two people at once, and the idea of it was genuinely laughable. Words failed him, his throat working uselessly to construct something articulate, and so instead he shook his head into the curve of Ace's neck. "Deuce," Marco rumbled, nails biting into the soft flesh of his hips and drawing him back onto that thick cock, "look at me."

He did so with immense difficulty, barely raising his head to look over his shoulder back at where Marco knelt behind him, looking very much like a fierce predator poised above his kill.

"Just follow my lead," Marco said, before he drew back, back, _back_ so that only the tip tugged at Deuce's rim, and then—

“Oh, _my—!"_

All the air in Deuce's lungs was forced out of him. Marco set a hard, unrelenting pace without hesitation or warning, slamming Deuce's hips forward to fuck into Ace, pulling him back and out only to cant forward yet again. He was a mere ragdoll for Marco to wield as he wished, it felt like, pulled between the two of them with a constant stream of gasps, whimpers, and stuttered moans of both of their names. There _was no_ lead to follow, Deuce being unable to find purchase to work with or even against Marco's pace, allowing Marco to essentially fuck Ace by extension through Deuce's body.

“Marco, that’s so— _so_ —” Deuce tried to say something, _anything_ , but it was impossible to draw breath, to _think_.

Every rough beat of Marco's pelvis to his ass – every slick slide into Ace – had Deuce rocking between them, clinging to Ace like a damn life raft out in a storm, and ah, no, the tears were coming back again, his mind was going fuzzy at the edges with the sheer unadulterated _bliss_ of being so securely sandwiched between the two of them, used and loved and cradled in their dual hold—

"He looks fucked out already," Deuce heard Ace laugh in a breathy voice, not sounding too good himself with a whine tumbling from him at Deuce's slide deep into him, "you can—fuck him harder than that, Marco, he's not gonna _break—"_

He couldn't form coherent words – couldn't sob out that _yes he wanted that_ and yet _no I'm gonna come again—_

A bitten off whine escaped him as Marco followed Ace's instruction without question, pulling Deuce back by the hips only to meet with a hard thrust forward.

"That's it," Marco encouraged through ragged breaths, his pace suddenly faltering in its rhythm at the precise instant Deuce felt himself tighten, that pressure churning in his gut and begging for more, for that sweet, _sweet_ release, "come for me again, Deuce. Make Ace come on your dick like a good boy."

He couldn't slip a hand between them to fist Ace's erection; they were pressed together so tightly, slotted into one another like pieces of a puzzle, and Ace's cock dragged wet and hard against Deuce's abdomen with every movement anyway, giving him the friction he needed.

It was overwhelming. He knew his ears had to be as flushed as his face; his gasps came wet and filthy, mixing with Ace's whines and the sudden, startling string of pleads of, "there, Deuce, that's— just like— _harder, harder, yes, yes—"_

—And Marco heard; he gave Ace what he cried for, hauling Deuce back only to fuck him ruthlessly, pounding him forward into Ace, and it was suddenly too much, it was _so_ much, he was going to come first _again_ and he had no control whatsoever over the way he fisted his fingers tight into Ace's hair, arched under Marco—his knees were going to give in, he was going to come, he couldn't head it off, stimulated so thoroughly both front and back—

But it was Ace who reached his peak first, bucking under Deuce and tilting his head back into the sheets with a cry that seemed to be ripped from him, spilling wet caught between himself and Deuce.

"Your turn," Marco whispered without pause, leaning down and forward to cage Deuce again, to bite and suck at his neck as Deuce mirrored him, raising himself to bow his back tight in his effort to feel more of Marco's warmth, "won't you come for me, Deuce? You're so close," Deuce twitched with a gasped sob, moving to grab at Ace's hips, praying that Ace could stand the inevitable overstimulation for just a few more seconds— " _so close._ Just let go, sweetheart. Let go and come for me."

So he did. Completely.

His orgasm shook through him right down to his fingertips, numbing him to everything else with the most intense climax he had ever had the good fortune of experiencing. He felt himself flood Ace, felt that unnaturally hot body grip him tighter in a conscious effort to help him ride through it, to draw from him every last drop of pleasure—

He collapsed in a graceless, shaking heap on top of Ace, his arms suddenly giving way and unable to support him. Warm fingers spun into his hair immediately, petting him as he was slammed forward uselessly one last time before Marco was coming with a groan to his shoulder, filling him to the brim, _using_ him as he had fantasized about for so long.

A sob – a genuine one of sated exhaustion, tears clinging to his long lashes – was pressed into Ace's chest as Marco braced and pulled out, leaving Deuce trembling with the sudden loss. It was ridiculous, but he almost found himself asking for Marco to stay, to fill him again and spread him wide, to chase away the sudden chasm of emptiness.

But Ace guided his attention away from where Marco was climbing off the bed, freckled nose brushing to Deuce's own in an act of sweet intimacy before tilting to kiss him softly. Deuce hummed into the kiss, parting his lips under Ace's movements.

He was jolted out of the warmth of the moment by Marco saying, "if you ever want to do that again, feel free to let me know." Ah, Deuce's cheeks flooded with warmth at that. "It doesn't have to be a one-time deal if you're both up for it."

Ace blinked at Deuce expectantly, clearly leaving him to make the call and decide.

"Maybe," was his non-committal reply, furiously ignoring how his body seemed to cry out for Marco's touch again with just that tiny little suggestion. With a soft sigh he dipped his face back into Ace's collarbone, huffing out the words, "we'll see," through clenched teeth like he was admitting to wanting something disgusting and embarrassing.

He felt Ace's smile more than saw it; heard the barely whispered words of, "that means yes," hissed to Marco before he leaned up again with a sound of protest and kissed Ace to stop him from saying anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, I'm on [Tumblr](https://aishitekuretearigatou.tumblr.com/) if you want to come say hi!
> 
> Comments and kudos let me know if I'm doing something right, and I really love your feedback!


End file.
